


Stuck In The Middle With You

by fourfreedoms



Category: Never Back Down (2008 2011)
Genre: Are you kidding? These guys aren't ready for penetrative sex!, Kissing, M/M, road trip fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-08
Updated: 2011-11-08
Packaged: 2017-10-25 20:47:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/274618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fourfreedoms/pseuds/fourfreedoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jake and Ryan get thrown together. It's not so bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stuck In The Middle With You

They decide to go to New Orleans for spring break. A big group of them. Jake has mostly resigned himself to the fact that he and Ryan are in the same friends group, and well, inspite of Ryan's Machiavellian ways, those friends like him. He’s had to accept that Baja still wants to hang out with her old friends and so there’s no easy way to not be part of Ryan’s friend group. That shit sucks. Because three cars, twelve people? Some shit is bound to go seriously wrong.

It does—everything that possibly could go wrong. Baja’s best friend gets pulled over and her license suspended. She won’t let anybody else drive her Boxster, “because the insurance premiums are more than your millionaire daddies and mummies make combined.” The brakes fail on Eric’s brand new ‘stang just outside of Tallahassee and he starts freaking out like somebody went and cut them. Jake and Ryan are, for some crazy reason, the only people not fighting and gibbering about how they’re five hours into spring break and clearly cursed. There’s a motel in Midway and they book nearly all the rooms, because preppy rich kids Do Not Share.

“I can’t believe how black this town is,” Ben says, inspecting his fingernails.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Aaron replies, as he’s hoisting suitcases out of Eric’s car.

“Oh, you know what I mean,” Ben replies with a careless hand gesture.

Aaron drops the suitcases. “No, I don’t know what you mean.”

“I’m going into town,” Ryan says brightly, jangling his keys in his hand. He could break up the fight, but he seems strangely uninterested.

Somehow Jake gets himself volunteered to ride shotgun. Baja says she needs Tampons and she’s too crampy and pms-y to deal with Ryan right now.

When he tells Ryan that he’s coming along, Ryan just quirks a brow and says, “Whatever, but I’m listening to 40 Oz to Freedom. You,” he holds up a hand, “don’t get a say in the matter.”

“That’s fine, I like Sublime.”

Ryan shoots him an impenetrable look.

They go their separate ways in Walgreens, meeting up again at the cash register. When Jake sets down the box of Tampax Pearl Supers, Ryan snorts out a laugh and says, “Whoa, guess your spring break is over.”

“Shut up,” Jake replies.

Ryan holds up his hands. “You should get her spearmint leaves. She always wants those candies when she’s on the rag.”

The cashier looks at Jake expectantly and he sighs and finds the candy aisle. When he gets back, Ryan pays for everything before he can protest.

There’s a little grocery and a Mcdonalds’ down the street from the Walgreens and as they exit, Jake catches Ryan eyeing it a little longingly.

“One time won’t hurt,” Jake tells him.

Ryan shoots him a look. “Okay, gridiron, I know you haven’t been doing this your whole life—”

“Oh shut up,” Jake interrupts him. “Seriously, one time won’t hurt.”

Ryan looks unsure.

“I will if you will,” Jake tells him.

Ryan sighs. They order two Big Macs and double fries. The waitress looks at them kind of funny when Ryan orders water, but she hands him the Aquafina bottle without protest.

Jake sips on his Coke and studies him. Ryan’s got circles under his eyes like he hasn’t been sleeping well. It’s all over school that he got his acceptance letter to UCLA, so he’s got no idea what could possibly be bothering him. He’s already dated, like eight girls since Baja, and while none of them last, it doesn’t seem like he’s been crying his heart out over her or anything. But maybe, Jake underestimated how much Baja meant to him.

He asks as they’re unwrapping their burgers. “Did you love her?”

Ryan pauses and raises incredulous eyes to meet his. “Are you serious?” Jakes raises a brow. Ryan shakes his head and takes a bite of his Big Mac. He looks like he’s thinking about it seriously. “I don’t know, man.”

Jake shrugs and looks down at his food.

“Do you?” Ryan asks.

Jake looks up. He doesn’t even hesitate. “No.”

“What?” Ryan blinks at him. “You were willing to go through the beat down for her and you didn’t love her?”

Jake shrugs. “That was more for Max…”

“Aww, that’s really sweet,” Ryan says sarcastically.

“I’m pretty sure she doesn’t love me either,” Jake says speculatively.

“Uh,” Ryan says, “Okay, did I say I wanted to have this con—”

“We have fun together.”

Ryan considers this. “Are you trying to make me jealous?”

Jake shrugs. “Not really. Eat your burger.”

*

When they get back to the motel, they discover that Ben and Aaron aren’t speaking to each other. Baja has decided on a girls’ night only and while she thanks him for the spearmint leaves, she needs some time to herself with her friends and a DVD of 10 Things I Hate About You. The other thing is that everybody else has chosen a room already, so Ryan and Jake are stuck together.

“Just don’t snore,” Ryan tells him, as he throws his duffle on the floor next to the bed closest to the bathroom. “I may be forced to kill you.”

Jake rolls his eyes and settles down on his own bed, flicking on the window unit for some cool air. After a half hour of tense silence where Jake considers turning on the TV against the likelihood of Ryan bitching about whatever he puts on, Ryan rolls up off his bed with a groan.

“That Big Mac is like a stone in my gut.” He stretches and yanks his duffle onto his bed. “I’m going for a run.” He looks over at Jake with an expression that says, ‘and if you know what’s good for you, you should too.’

“It’s dark out,” Jake points out. Ryan shows no sign of having heard him.

Jake rolls his eyes and pulls his Nikes out of his bag. He likes working out, but he was kind of enjoying the idea of being away from the gym for a while. Ryan probably works out eight days a week.

“Is that my blood?” Ryan asks, startling Jake.

“Huh?”

“On your shoe.” He points at where Jake’s got his fingers caught in the laces.

Jake realizes he means the rusty spot on the toe. “Every time I put these on I think of you…” he stares at Ryan with a false gravity. “No homo.”

Ryan snorts and tosses a water bottle Jake didn’t even know he had at Jake’s head. Jake fumbles it and it falls to the ground as Ryan calls, “Bet I’m faster than you!” before racing out the door.

“What are you? Seven?” Jake asks the empty room. He sighs and double knots his left shoe before racing after him. He hopes Ryan brought his key, because Jake certainly didn’t bother to take it. There are no lights but the occasional passing car. Jake has to rely on Ryan to spot the obstacles, because the darkness is so heavy he can barely see his own pumping arms. They go for four and a half miles marked out by the signs along the highway. Jake doggedly follows Ryan, but he’s always a few steps behind. Feels like that’s life these days. It’s the exact length of Jean Rocqua’s daily run. He wonders if Ryan ever trained there. Certainly Jean had never professed to know him, but Ryan had to start somewhere.

Ryan veers off into the woods as they slow into a cool down jog. “Where are you going?” Jake calls after him, breathless. He follows the sounds of Ryan crunching through the underbrush, but completely misses when he comes to a halt. They collide, hitting the springy underbrush with an improbable crashing sound, limbs tangled together painfully.

“Jesus,” Ryan says, through punched out lungs. He coughs and shoves at Jake’s shoulder but Jake is too dazed to realize what he’s trying to do. “I’m not sure why you didn’t just fall on all your opponents during the beatdown, you would’ve won.”

“I did win,” Jake points out trying to pick himself up and succeeding mostly at kneeing Ryan in the gut. He extricates himself, brushing crunchy leaves off his front with a muffled curse. He can barely make Ryan out as he does the same thing for himself.

“Yeah, yeah,” Ryan replies, airily.

Something about it makes Jake pause. “What’s that mean?”

“It means,” Ryan drags the last word out, reaching across the distance between them and grabbing Jake’s arm. He yanks efficiently and dumps Jake down in the dirt, forearm across his throat lightly. It’s a taunt. One that tells Jake he could take away his air if he wanted. It puts Jake right back on that dingy bathroom floor with Ryan’s ‘I’m not impressed, not even a little,’ hanging over him. Ryan thumps him lightly on the chest and pulls back. “Ah, you get it.”

Jake tries a reversal on him that gets exactly nowhere but dumped back down in the dirt again. Ryan laughs, genuinely amused, and Jake doesn’t know how he knows, but he senses that for once, there’s no mockery in it. Ryan’s eyes glitter above him. He’s still lying half on top of Jake, leaning on him like he’s a chaise lounge.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Jake replies sardonically.

Ryan smiles and leans in. Their mouths barely touch, just a whisper, but there's no mistaking it for anything but a kiss. Jake cranes up as far as Ryan’s grip will let him and connects their lips again. Ryan shoves him back down the ground, palm spread just over the hollow of his throat. He claims his mouth, tongue sweeping past Jake’s parted lips. Jake shifts under him, Ryan’s thigh slotting right against his dick and he moans into Ryan’s mouth, fingers digging into the decomposing earth.

Ryan pulls away—breathing like he’s finally winded. Jake watches him touch the tip of his tongue to one canine, like he’s testing out the feel of it. After a long pause, Ryan turns back to him with a grin he hears rather than sees, “No homo.”


End file.
